Jealousy At Sea
by justafoxhound
Summary: PI Booker's secretary (OC) gets a little jealous when some chick called Elizabeth shows up. (Has nothing to do with the actual Burial At Sea DLC, this was just a bit of fun in the run up to its release!)
1. Chapter 1

Evening in Rapture and the close of play thrum audible in the walkways had long been replaced by a fluorescent glow as the city's bars hummed into life, filling up with people beginning their weekend. In the office of Booker DeWitt Marie glanced wistfully through the misty depths to a cabaret bar. How she'd love to make dinner and a show one day. Not that she could afford it even if she did ever finish early enough to make it. The light levels at the bottom of the ocean never really changed but the shift in the mood of the place told her when she was staying on much later than anyone else might tolerate.

Officially she was the secretary but she practically kept the place going. Sure, Mr DeWitt ran the jobs and could handle the trouble that often came along with them, but it was a two man operation, they both knew it. She would describe herself more as an all round personal assistant except that she wasn't sure they were generally as useful on cases as she was, or that part of their job was to wake up their boss from amongst the whiskey bottles on his desk before bringing the coffee, or dealing with the fallout of some of his less wise decisions. _Booker, you sure better appreciate what you got. _

She was a saint. She ought to be asking for more pay to do all she did or go elsewhere, but what were friends for? No one else would keep things going the way she did and they couldn't hire extra help. She regularly pushed him to make her a detective too, it was what she really wanted and she was good at it; why else would he bring her in on the details so often, even take her in the field when a delicate touch or extra pair of hands was necessary?

But the money wasn't there to make it happen and hire new admin, so here she was making vague plans to take herself to the cabaret one day while clearing the last thing on her desk.

A knock at the door roused her from her daydream and in walked a young woman. Possibly around the same age as her, she was pretty with immaculate black hair in the style Marie always tried to achieve but could never get quite right, and dressed to appear the perfect balance between professional and attractive. "Hello, I'm looking for a Mr Booker DeWitt. Is he still here?"

She didn't look like a client. And most clients didn't show up so late on a Friday. Booker was always working or else drunk, though, so he wasn't dating, was he? The blouse was a little formal for a date, but the fishnet stockings _and_ sultry dark lipstick was a touch too much in the other direction, in Marie's opinion. "We're about to close, but yes, Mr DeWitt is still here. May I take your name, and I'll let him know you are here." She hadn't intended to respond so coldly- professionalism, after all- but she didn't appreciate having her working day extended yet again, she supposed. The weekend was calling, of course, _har har. _

"I'm Elizabeth," the woman cooed.

Marie stifled a sigh as she rose from her chair and strode to Booker's office, knocking and pausing briefly before slipping in.

He looked up from the mess of transcripts and photographs on his desk, the ice in his glass jingling with the movement. At least he was using a glass. He was still working when he bothered not to drink straight from the bottle. "Marie, get yourself home already, kid. It's Friday."

"I'm just finishing up. It's not like I've got anything fancy planned with what you're paying me, anyway," she smirked. She really did want a promotion so she wouldn't let up, even if it was just teasing.

Booker sighed and ran a hand over his stubble. Not that he needed to look any more rough- Marie had seen him in and after a brawl a few times- but she rather liked how it made him look so rugged. "Well leave it until Monday, it's late. I ain't a slave driver."

Marie inwardly rolled her eyes- how easily he had forgotten how much paperwork there was now that she did it all. "Well, thanks. I like to get it done though so I'm not swamped when you need my help on those hard cases." She folded her arms while he scoffed a little and stood up. "Anyway there's a woman here to see you... says her name's Elizabeth." His slight frown told her it was not a date, which she discovered she was pleased about. New help, maybe? Trust him to give in to her wishes and fill her old job with someone prettier. "We've no appointments, I don't know what she wants. I can tell her to come back next week."

Booker headed for the door. "No, no I'll see what this is about. If you really want to work cases we need more jobs. Could even catch a break."

Marie followed Booker back to the main office and continued finishing the last of her work while they greeted one another.

"Booker DeWitt. What business brings you here, Miss...?" he offered his hand.

"You can call me Elizabeth," the woman purred, taking the hand.

Marie thought she was looking at him altogether too knowingly, and the handshake lingered a little too long.

"If we might speak somewhere private, I have information that will be of great interest to you."

"Hm. All right." He led the woman back to his office, turning to Marie on the way. "I'll take it from here. I'll call you if anything comes up, Marie."

Of course he would. She smiled as the last paper work was filed. "Good night, Booker."


	2. Chapter 2

"_Elizabeth"_. She'd been in contact with Booker for a while now and not contact like clients normally had, the consultations with maybe a discreet update, she seemed to be working with him. And it had been the only work Booker had been doing, mostly. He hadn't copied Marie in on anything about the case, nor could she find any information on the woman. She didn't expect full disclosure about everything, but given the unusual behaviour of the pair she thought he might offer her some explanation.

Maybe this was the 'break' and it would just have to go this way. Or maybe this woman was up to something and he had fallen for it. He wasn't in the best state of mind and she'd picked up the pieces before.

The door burst open and in crashed the pair, bloodied and bedraggled, Booker's arm draped over Elizabeth's shoulders. His shirt was soaked in blood and he'd clearly taken a nasty wound for Elizabeth was guiding him into a chair before he became unable to hold himself up any longer. She began fussing around for things to use on him, but Marie ignored her questions and immediately fetched the medical supplies they kept for just such occasions. "Bring me some booze," she instructed the woman. Swiftly she was by his side, removing the wad of material he was holding on himself by his shoulder and cutting aside the bloody shirt fabric.

"I'm fine, I can deal with it," he grumbled, trying to waft Marie away.

"Cool it, hot shot, it will be quicker if I sort it."

Elizabeth appeared with a half bottle of whiskey and Marie grabbed it from her before she could make to do anything, dousing the area to wash away the blood and sterilise the wound. "It's not so bad, just messy" she commented on seeing the damage.

"Easy for you to say," Booker winced, seizing the bottle with his free hand and taking a swig.

"Gimme a light," Marie held a threaded needle in front of him.

The good news was Booker was aware enough to understand what she meant and reached into a pocket for a book of matches. "Elizabeth, would you mind?" he groaned, holding the matches out for her.

Hovering nearby she took them and struck one, holding the match still for Marie to sterilise the needle in the flame. _Smart, too. _Marie noticed here that the rag stemming the bleeding earlier was torn from Elizabeth's skirt. Bitterly, she found herself annoyed at the selfless gesture. "Thanks," she muttered, setting to work. "Damn it, Booker, haven't you learnt how to not get hurt yet? What the heck is this gig, anyway?"

Swallowing another large gulp from the bottle he responded gruffly. "It's personal, kid. You don't need to get mixed up in it."

"Well, looks to me like I am when you come crashing in here all mashed up."

"I said I can handle it- agh!"

Marie tied off the thread and applied the gauze a little less than gently. "I look after your stupid ass, Booker, it's what I do." She placed the bandages on the area and added softly, "hold still." Gently wrapping the bandage so it held the gauze in place, she pinned it to the spot a minute later. "It looked worse when you came in," she patted his arm lightly.

"Yeah, sorry about that. Elizabeth, you okay?"

"Nothing I can't fix. Shouldn't you go to a doctor?"

Marie interjected. "I've fixed up worse. Though not for a long time- I don't know what trouble you're causing." She shot Elizabeth a sidelong glance as she got up and headed to the back of the room. "You've got shirts in your office, right, Booker?"

"Yeah but- Marie, damn it, I can dress myself." He shakily chased after her into his office and closed the door behind him. "What is your problem? Gimme that." He snatched the fresh shirt from her hands and began switching it with the cut up, ruined one he was wearing, perching on the desk for support.

"My problem?" Marie resisted the urge to help him get out of the ruined shirt with his injury and only just remembered to avert her eyes as he put on the new one.

"Yeah. You're acting like Elizabeth shot me. I've been in scuffles before, it happens."

"Well clients don't normally come along for the ride. Is she even a client? I don't even know what you're doing so... of course I'm suspicious. How do I know she's trustworthy?"

"Like I said, I ain't gonna tell you the details, but I have to follow this up. Don't worry about it."

"Well like I said, I do. Because I've got your back. Just send her away for a damn minute and explain to me what's going on."

Booker looked at her quizzically for a moment. "Are you jealous?"

"What? No, don't be stupid. I'm just wary, you ass, like you should be."

Almost smiling, Booker left the office and told Elizabeth they should meet again in a day or two, then returned. "You are, aren't you?"

"No!" Marie responded instantly, but she could feel her cheeks reddening. Now he'd said it, she could see it.

"You patched me up good, Marie, but that was some award winning mother hen bit back there. She ain't gonna fly off with me, you know."

Marie scowled and Booker looked back with raised eyebrows. She couldn't deny she'd tried hard to push Elizabeth out of the picture just then, and not just because Marie was prepared for a medical situation coming through the door so would act quicker. The stand-off lasted until she realised she didn't have a good excuse. "Fine. So what if I am?" she blustered quickly.

"Don't worry, kid. She's not gettin' your detective job, all right?"

Marie sighed. "It's not that..."

"It isn't?"

_You're a detective, work it out. _"Oh my gosh, Booker, you two do nothing but look at each other and make these knowing comments and you're always touching hands or something. There's so much chemistry I'm surprised nothing has exploded yet." She folded her arms and raised her own eyebrows back.

"Huh... that's how it looks? Well, no, it ain't anythin' romantic. Couldn't tell you what it is, but..." Marie blushed more as his look changed subtly. "That's why you're jealous? Huh."

"Merry Christmas," she retorted sardonically.

Booker ran a hand over the side of his face. "I'd be lying if I said I didn't partially hire you for being some eye candy, kid, but haven't you seen enough of me to put you off?"

Marie was taken aback by the boorish admission, and a little excited. They'd had their moments but she was never sure if it was flirting or just friendly ribbing. She mused a moment before answering. "I care about you. I don't know, maybe it comes with caring." He didn't seem too convinced and Marie, wondering if it wasn't a terrible idea to say all this to a good friend and employer, tried to bail. "I'm sorry, I'm out of line, I shouldn't have said anything. You should get that looked at by a proper doctor." She made to leave for her desk but Booker caught her with a hand on the shoulder.

"Gimme a minute, Marie. I'm a bit light headed right now. How about we work this out?"

Marie was encouraged by the almost positive response but still awfully apprehensive. "Oh, I don't know-"

"This Friday. We'll finish early, I'll take you somewhere. Where do you wanna go?"

_A date? ...Ha. _"Booker, I'm not sure..."

"Come on, I don't want you acting all awkward now. One night out, we'll work it out when I haven't just lost blood and don't have a possible concussion. Only fair, right? Call it my treat in lieu of that raise I can't give you, if you like."

She'd been looking at him in his half buttoned shirt, still bloodied and smelling of the fight, that smell of oil and gunpowder and sweat and adrenaline that drove part of her wild, and he'd just given her a way to accept without confirming what she had just said. She took it. "All right. Dinner and a show. Just... make sure you tidy up a bit first, jeez." She smirked again, gesturing over his dishevelled appearance, and waltzed back to her desk.


	3. Chapter 3

Friday night. Date night. Both of them had avoided the subject the rest of the week, speaking merely as effective work colleagues, though they each found themselves looking at the other more often. Marie wasn't sure whether the aim was to admire the view or catch the other looking- which she did a few times. She decided to change into a dress at the end of the day. It was a date, after all. But given the awkward nature of the agreement she didn't want to appear to be trying too hard to impress so it wasn't particularly daring- a pretty circle dress, not too big or ostentatious, and she left her hair as it had been throughout the day. Booker must have had the same thoughts, changing shirts and dressing in a more relaxed manner, giving the impression of cool nonchalance. Like the date was the most natural thing in the world.

It wasn't. If it had just been a treat for all her hard work they could have enjoyed it as colleagues. If they'd just gone out to kick back they'd have had great fun as friends. If they'd been posing as a couple while on a surveillance job, the act would have been more convincing than the real thing. All the levels of their relationship made it difficult to try and _court_. They knew a lot about each other already and nothing had really happened between them to get them to this point. It was an arrangement because word got out that one of them had a crush, like school kids. Despite Booker's comment back in the office, he seemed as unsure how to proceed through this date as Marie. They pushed through the dinner as acquaintances and drank through the show.

Booker walked her home and as tradition dictated stopped for a chat at her door. "Don't suppose it's looking good for the same time next week," he said in a defeated tone.

Marie smiled and cringed all at once. At least the drinks had cheered her up now, and she giggled at the absurdity of their behaviour. Despite her urge to side with her earlier self who wanted to forget she had ever said anything, she really didn't want to write off the idea. They'd had one awkward evening, but the cocktails swimming through her system urged her to go nuclear before giving up. Grabbing Booker's jacket before he turned to leave she spoke before the laughter wore off. "Date, schmate. Why don't we find out if this works, properly?"

"What do you mean?" He had to be playing dumb. He was a smart guy and was stepping closer, surely he'd figured it out.

"I _mean_ we haven't even acted like a couple so no wonder it was a total fake out." She didn't care if he thought she was easy. He was no goody-two-shoes. She took his other lapel and pulled him closer. "We barely even tried..." _Darn, _he was too tall, he'd have to cooperate for her to reach.

He held her shoulders, annoyingly keeping them separate. "Marie, maybe you were right. Forget we said anything. After that disaster, don't force it."

She shot him a determined look. "Why not? We can't _date, _not us. It's not our style_. _How many worse scrapes have we come out of? Forget the stupid date, we should have just... 'worked it out' in your office. I've certainly _thought about_ that..." She was waiting in too much anticipation to smirk.

The subtle change in the way he was looking at her appeared again. "Well, ain't you full of surprises, miss?"

_How's this for a surprise? _She pulled hard on his lapels and raised herself up on her tiptoes to kiss the son of a bitch. It took him a second to respond, so when his hands moved up to her neck she worried he would pull her away. But instead they entwined divinely in her hair, their warmth enveloping most of her head making her feel the opposite now, that he would not let her back away. Their kiss became more fervent, the soft wetness of his lips and tongue contrasting with the rough grazing of his stubble on her skin. She stepped back and pulled him with her, thudding into the door. The sensation of being pinned between the wood and his body flipped the switch they'd been looking for all night and the notion of giving up on the idea vanished just as quickly as they did into Marie's house.

* * *

Elizabeth sat in the DeWitt offices once more. Marie hadn't been short with her lately, which was a pleasant change, but however hard she tried to shield herself from the knowledge she couldn't help but notice the many stolen glances now present between Booker and the girl.

_Really, Booker, your secretary? _How cliché.


End file.
